


Familiar stranger

by DandyThrandy



Category: The Hobbit
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:20:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3672126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandyThrandy/pseuds/DandyThrandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malothel arrives at the halls of Thranduil, and there is something familiar about her, but Thranduil just can not believe his first instinct to be true. His wife died years ago, but this brings up memories...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Mirkwood

The road seemed longer and longer the further and deeper in to the thick forest they got. The trees all looked the same, dark green leaves with almost black stems, and a desperation began to creep up on them. There was a terrible vacuum, a silence that was pressing on their ears, not even a whisper from the trees was heard, and somehow it seemed as if the trees got closer and closer, narrowing the road.  
Very little light came through the tree crowns, and the light that did, seemed to be swallowed by the shadows before it could even reach the ground.  
Malothel looked down at her feet, and it was only because of her elven eyes that she could make them out.  
“Do you think it’s much further?” her husband, Berior, beside her, asked. The sound of his voice was like a knife cutting through the silence, and her heart skipped. If her hand hadn’t already been on the handle of her long dagger at her side, it had surely went straight to it.  
She shook her head. “I don’t know” she almost whispered, trying not to reveal in her voice how distressed and scared she was. She was sure she had seen these trees before.  
Berior looked at her as she was scanning the road ahead of them. It was a long time since he had seen her smile, and she always used to smile and laugh. He tried not to worry, but it made him uneasy seeing her like this.  
They had been on the road for days. It had been a pleasant journey. They had talked and laughed, but as soon as they had reached Mirkwood, a silence had come over them.  
They had left everything except their weapons behind, to go to the halls of King Thranduil of Mirkwood to seek positions there as soldiers.  
Their families had thought that they were crazy and had tried to talk them out of going. They had talked about the horrors of Mirkwood, but Malothel and her husband had not listened. Their minds had been made up. They were a couple of adventurers, as made for each other, and the forests were they had grown up just wasn’t adventurous enough for them.  
The forests they were used to were light forests, where the rays of the sun reached everywhere, and there seemed to be no shadows to find. The leaves on the trees were light green, and the stems almost silver, and even at night the forest seemed to emit light somehow. There were open glades, beautiful flowers and singing birds, and other animals. It was a living forest.  
Here there seemed to be no life at all. Malothel would have been sure of it, were it not for the occasional movements at the corner of her eye. She would quickly turn towards it, with her dagger at the ready, but there would be nothing there however much she strained her elven eyes.

They longed to get away from this place. It felt like they slowly might sink down in to madness if they did not. But the road just grew and grew, and Malothel could swear she had seen the same trees over and over again.  
Suddenly she stopped, and so did Berior. He looked at her, waiting for an explanation.  
“Do you hear that?” she asked him, listening intently, staring in to nothingness, focusing everything on her hearing.  
Her husband listened too “Yes.”  
They both began walking towards the sound of metal against metal, groans and shouts. It sounded like it came from miles away, but they did not have to walk far at all until they reached the source of the sound.  
Among the trees, they could see a group of elven soldiers fight a band of goblins. The elves were outnumbered, but their skills were greater, and it barely kept them alive.  
Both Malothel and Berior drew their weapons. Malothel her long beautiful dagger, and Berior put an arrow to his bowstring, and they slowly and soundlessly drew nearer the battle.  
This was it. This was what all their training had been for. A real fight. Their hearts beat hard in their chests but it was mostly out of excitement, rather than because they were afraid.  
When Malothel had gotten close enough, she charged. She saw an opportunity, and took it, plunging her dagger deep into a goblin just as it was going to pierce an elf soldier with his spear. The elf gasped and looked at Malothel with relief. The goblin gurgled as the blood from his lungs reached his mouth. The elf had been fighting another goblin, and had not seen this one coming. Both of the goblins now lay dead on the ground between them.  
The elven soldier looked at Malothel with surprise, his mouth slightly open. His hair was blond, just like hers, but instead of green, his eyes were blue. On his head was a simple but beautiful silver circlet, and in his hand he held a thin sword that under all the dark blood she could see was silver too, and studded with beautiful white gems.  
He was very tall, even for an elf, and his armour looked very regal.  
Malothel wanted to introduce herself and explain where she had come from, as she saw that he looked confused, but there was no time. He nodded towards her as a thanks and then had to duck for a goblin spear that came swooshing straight towards his head. The owner of the spear did not survive long after that, as the elven soldier rushed back in to battle and slew the filth.

Malothel looked back to see where her husband had gone. He had not moved an inch since she last saw him, and when she saw the reason, her heart jumped up in to her throat.  
Berior was surrounded by the largest spider she had ever seen. Seven of them was circling him, waiting for an opportunity to attack, hissing and thrusting their stingers to threaten him. Two lay on their backs with arrows sticking out of their undersides.  
He stood with the bowstring drawn tightly, waiting for the right moment to release the arrow. One of the spiders made a sudden move, and it went on it’s back with a horrible squeal, an arrow sticking out of it’s head. Another spider followed, but Berior did not have time to put the arrow to the string, so he plunged the arrow in to the spiders eye, and then fired the bow with the bought time.  
Four spiders were dead, five remained.  
Malothel was just about to run to his aid, when she heard a snarl behind her, and out of reflex she turned swiftly with her large dagger swinging. It made a shallow wound in the belly of a goblin, but it did not stop him in any way, in fact it only made him more enraged. Malothel had to turn her back on her husband how ever much it pained her, but she would be no use to him dead. She had to deal with the goblins first.

Five goblins later, Malothel finally got a moment to stop and search for her husband.  
All around her, goblins lay dead in their own blood on the ground. Elves were walking amongst them, sticking their daggers and swords in to the ones that seemed to still move. She took a few steps towards her husband, but stopped suddenly as she almost stepped on a dead elf laying at her feet.  
She gasped.  
The elf was pale. His face splattered with blood, both red and black. His green eyes was staring up at her and she could almost not tear her own eyes away from them. She looked down at them with horror.  
A tear fell down her cheek.  
She had never experienced death like this before, and suddenly she got the urge to run away. To run home again.  
But Berior needed her. She tore her eyes from the dead elf, and looked up, finding her husband not far away, standing with his back to her, surrounded by spider carcasses. He was panting, covered in dark blood. He had long run out of arrows, and were now holding in his hands two daggers.  
Where there had been noise from the battle, suddenly there came a silence. The only thing that could be heard was the heavy breathing from Berior.  
He was not wounded what Malothel could see, and she was amazed and relieved at the same time. They had never been in any fight like this before, only in training with each other, and then, Malothel almost always won.  
“Who are you? And what are you doing in my forest?”  
A deep, dark, voice broke the silence.  
Both Malothel and Berior turned around, and saw all the other elven soldiers had gathered and was looking at them. Some were wounded but still standing with the help of their friends. One soldier was hunched down by the dead elf, but was looking up at them.  
At the front of the group stood the elf that had spoken. It was the elf that Malothel had saved, and she felt foolish when she realised that this was the king of Mirkwood. This was Thranduil.  
His face was grim, not at all grateful as before. He walked slowly towards them. As he reached a spider laying on the ground before him, he poked it slightly with his boot. It was stone dead.  
He looked back up at Berior and Malothel, almost growing taller, looking down at them.  
From behind him, a younger elf stepped up and stood beside him. He looked down at all the spiders. There were much more than the ones Malothel had seen Berior fight before. Everyone looking upon the spiders looked bewildered, not really believing that one elf could have killed all of them.  
“Ada… Tiro na i yngyl.”  
The king did not look towards his son, his eyes were on the spiders, but Malothel could see the slightest change in his face.  
Berior put his daggers back in their sheaths on his back, and went over to pick up his bow he had thrown away in the heat of the fight, before walking over to face the king. He gave a slight bow before him, and so did Malothel.  
“Im Berior, adh vessenin, Malothel. We were on our way to your halls to seek positions as soldiers.”  
Again, Malothel could see a change in the kings face, but now it also seemed to grow pale very quickly, as if he had seen a spirit. His eyes were staring blankly at her, and his mouth slowly opened.  
Malothel felt very uneasy with the kings stare, but did not look away. She steadily looked back in to the kings eyes, and could slowly feel a strange sense of comfort she had never felt before.  
“Ada?”  
The prince called for his fathers attention, and the king awoke from his trance. He closed his mouth shut and looked down at his son. He then continued to just turn around and walk away, towards the halls. The other soldiers followed suit, except the prince who stayed with the two new soldiers before leading them after the others.  
“You must excuse my father. He is not good with strangers” the prince told them “I’m Legolas. Welcome to Mirkwood.”


	2. The Crib

When the group of soldiers had returned, they were met with worried families, and the wounded were taken away to be healed.  
There was a great commotion in the entrance hall that quickly died away and the hall was emptied except the new soldiers, the king, the prince, and a worried female elf holding her infant child in her arms, wrapped up in a blanket. She kept looking around the hall, as if she somehow expected her husband to appear out of nowhere, but he did not, and as she realised this, she ran up to the king, who only looked down at her, at her son, and then left without a word. She just stood there looking at her king leaving her.  
The prince though, walked over to her and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.  
“I’m sorry, Demeth.”  
As he said this, the doors opened again, and in came two soldiers carrying the dead elf Malothel had seen on the scene of the battle.  
A horrible scream left the woman. It woke her son up that began to cry. She rocked him, as much for his comfort as for hers, as she ran over to the body of her husband.  
The soldiers carried the body in to the entrance hall, his arms and head dangling as they walked through. The woman followed , still giving cries and sobs. The sound of the child crying echoed a long time in the vast halls.  
Malothel could feel her eyes begin to tear up again, and she could see her husband feeling the same agony.  
Legolas turned to them and gave them both a comforting smile, although there was pain in his eyes. He laid a hand on the shoulder of Berior.  
“If it were not for you, there would be even more casualties. We are very grateful.”  
Berior tried to give Legolas a smile, but it only came out half hearted as the sound of the crying baby still could be heard.

The next day was a day of mourning. Throughout the halls, sorrowful songs could be heard. And then the silence and the darkness from the forest outside seemed to have crept in. Everyone was talking in hushed voices, if they were talking at all. Malothel and Berior had never experienced anything like this, they had never felt any sadness like this, and they both were thinking that maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe they should not have come here at all if this was how it was going to be like.  
But as much as that day was a day of sorrow, the next was a day of celebration.  
Late in the evening, Malothel and Berior was taken to a small dining hall, were the soldiers they had fought with was waiting around a large table set with delicious food and bottles of wine galore.  
Cheers were heard as they walked in, being led by Legolas who had lured them there. Glasses were raised and praises being said, and they were seated to the right side of Thranduil who sat at one short end of the long table, and Legolas took the seat to the left of his father.  
Both Malothel and Berior smiled from ear to ear out of surprise. And Malothel thought she might even have seen Thranduil smile.

The celebration went on for hours. They were soon the only people still awake in the underground city. Everywhere it was quiet, except in this hall.   
The food got eaten, the empty plates pushed away, and left was bottles of wine to be drunk. Many had already been emptied, and the talk and laughter flowed with ease. Even songs were being sung now and then.  
“To Berior!” An elf at the other end of the table from Thranduil stood up with a raised wine glass in one hand and leaning on the table with the other.  
“Sit down! We’ve heard enough of your speeches tonight!”   
Laughter broke out around the table and the elf slid down to his seat again for the fourth time.  
The elf sitting beside Berior placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Berior, but there is just so much one can hear about you in one day before one goes insane, I hope you understand.” He removed his hand and laughed.  
“To Berior!”  
“Oh, very funny!” the elf beside Berior blurted out before he saw who the speaker was. Thranduil looked at him with his glass raised. He had a rare smile at the corner of his mouth.  
“I try to please” Thranduil replied before he continued, and a wave of chuckles went around the table. “To Berior. Without whom our company at this table would have been significantly fewer. To whom we are eternally grateful.” He raised his glass towards Berior and then drank. Every one else followed suit.  
Berior did not really know where to look. Spiders he had no problems dealing with it seemed, but this large amounts of compliments and attention he had no idea how to handle.   
Malothel wrapped her arms around Berior, resting her head on his shoulder.  
“My hero” she said as she hugged him tightly, and then let him go. “It’s a different story at home though, let me tell you. Every time I ask him to get rid of a spider it’s always ‘But they’ve got a right to live as much as we do.’” she imitated his voice to the amusement of everyone around the table, they all broke out in laughter.  
Malothel sat joking throughout the night, making the other soldiers give cry after cry with laughter, and Thranduil was fascinated. She reminded him of…  
“Ada?”  
Thranduil snapped out of his trance, and noticed that the hall had gone silent. Everyone was looking at him. He had been sitting in deep thought and had not noticed that he had been staring blankly at Malothel, and it had taken the familiar voice of his son to get him back to reality.  
Thranduil turned to Legolas that just gave a slight nod towards Malothel, so he turned back to her again.  
“I said, we are almost out of wine, sire” Malothel said slowly, making sure he actually did hear her this time, but she did also say it with a smile.   
Thranduil dared not smile back at her, though. He could feel all the eyes on him, and it made him uncomfortable.  
“Yes, yes, of course, go get some more wine”, he casually answered her with a wave of his hand, and he tried to not look at her, or anyone else. Instead he stared into his glass, and then took a deep gulp.  
The conversation slowly began again, and soon the noise in the hall was back to the same level as before.

***

Thranduil was on his last sip of wine, and kept casting glances towards the door. No one had walked through them in the last half hour.  
He downed the last wine, got up and walked out of the hall without a word.

Despite all the amount of wine Thranduil had in his system, he walked with a straight and determined gate towards the opening down to the wine cellar. He was an elf after all, but also, he had been drinking wine since he was very young, so it took a lot for him to be affected, something he had also passed down to his son, it seemed. Other people were not so tolerant though, and he thought perhaps Malothel had fallen asleep down there.  
Thranduil had reached the stairs leading down, and he walked them down till he came to a level with a corridor that lead to different storage spaces. There he saw something to his left, a light, and this threw him off, since there was no reason for there to be any kind of light. In fact, there was not supposed to be a light there at all. This corridor was very rarely used, and when it was, it was under his strict orders and restrictions.  
Thranduil cautiously walked towards the light. The only thing that could be heard down there was the occasional laughter from upstairs that his elf ears could barely detect.  
As he came closer, and he could see what room the light came from, his heart started to pound slightly harder and faster, and he wondered if maybe the wine had gotten to him after all.  
He reached the door, slowly put hand on it, spreading his long fingers out, and then slammed it completely open.  
At the other end of the room, Malothel was startled, straightened up and quickly turned towards Thranduil. She was standing beside a beautifully carved wooden crib. With a hand over hear heart she started to laugh.  
“Sire, you startled me! I have no idea what might lurk down here in the darkness. You could have been a goblin! I am so relieved that you are not.”  
“How did you get in here?” Thranduil asked her between clenched teeth. The smile on Malothel’s lips faded.  
“I saw a light coming from here.” She looked around at the torches on the walls that were burning brightly. “Something did not feel right about it, so I came in here. The door was open.”  
“That is not possible.”  
“I’m not lying to you, sire.”  
“Get out.”  
Malothel took the three bottles of wine she had sat on a table beside her, and walked over to the door. She glanced up at Thranduil without a word as she passed him, and walked out.

When she was gone, Thranduil realised that he had been holding his breathe, and let out a great sigh.  
He stood there in the doorway for quite some time, frozen in place. Everything had stopped. Time, his mind, his heart. He was staring down at his feet, trying to avoid looking in to the room, but it was impossible not to eventually. It pained him greatly as he looked about the room. The curiously lit torches. The chairs, and tables, and book cases. And the crib.  
But there was something not quite right.  
Only half of the shelves in the book cases had books on them. The tables were naked, and there was nothing hanging on the walls.

Thranduil slowly crossed the room, and walked over to the crib. He laid his hand on it, and let it glide over the thick dust that had covered it and had hid the beautiful colour of the tree it was carved from. Once, it had shone like silver.

_“Close your eyes.”_   
_His wife looked at him with surprise._   
_“What do you mean ‘close my eyes’?”_   
_“Close your eyes! I have a surprise for you!”_   
_“You have never been able to keep a secret from me!” His wife frowned slightly and looked at her husband with narrowed eyes._   
_“This time I’ve been very careful. Now please, close those beautiful eyes of yours.”_   
_“When you put it like that, how could I possible refuse.” She closed her eyes and waited for her husband to show her the secret, hoping that it actually was something she didn’t knew about, so that it didn’t turn in to another necklace incident. He really was terrible at secrets._   
_Thranduil took her hand, and laid his other hand on her back, leading her to a room next to their chamber. Here he let go of her, standing her in the middle of the room. He went over to the surprise, and was just about to tell her to open her eyes, when he just stopped. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on, and he looked at her now, and just felt such happiness._   
_“Melethenin?”_   
_“Yes. You can open your eyes now.”_   
_The wife slowly opened her eyes, and in front of her, beside her husband, stood the most beautiful crib she had ever seen. It was made out of mallorn, and it was carved with a very intricate pattern of leaves and flowers, some of them painted in faint colours._   
_She gasped, and Thranduil smiled brightly, getting the reaction he had hoped for._   
_She walked over to the crib, with one hand over her mouth, the other on her growing stomach, and tears in her eyes._   
_“You like it?”_   
_She could only nod._   
_“I got the best carver in all of Arda to make it for us.”_

When Thranduil returned to the hall, soon after Malothel, voices were lowered, and some conversations were dropped completely. He sat down in his chair and looked around at his soldiers, his brows slightly together, and he noticed eyes avoiding his. A pair of eyes that did not avoid his however, was Berior’s, but he did not speak, he just stared. Malothel had lain a hand on his arm and tried to start a conversation with him, any conversation, but he did not listen to her, and she soon gave up, giving Thranduil a glance. Berior soon stopped staring at Thranduil though, and took great gulps from his refilled glass of wine. He tried to get involved in current conversations, but he was obviously distracted in deep thought.


	3. My captain

The next night, Legolas went to his father’s bedroom just before they were going to rest for the night. He had wanted to speak to him all day but there hadn’t been any time, or any right moment. But he just could not wait any longer. It had to be said.  
“What was that yesterday?” Legolas asked his father.  
Thranduil took off his spring crown and laid it carefully on his chest of drawers, his back turned to his son who stood in the doorway to his chamber, leaning on the door frame, with his arms crossed over his chest.  
“What are you talking about?” Thranduil asked heavily. He knew exactly what this was about, but he did not wanted to discuss this right now.  
“You know what I am talking about, ada.” Legolas’ words were careful. He kept looking down at his boots, not sure how to go about the subject without offending his father.  
“No, please remind me.” Thranduil started to unpin his brooch, hoping that his son would get the hint.  
Legolas gave a faint sigh. He knew what his father was doing, but he would not be pushed away. “Yesterday, at the celebration. You… People were talking.”  
“Yes, son, I should hope so. That is what you do at parties.” Thranduil removed the pin, and laid it in it’s box and put it away in a drawer. He turned to Legolas and leaned on the drawers.  
“Please…” Legolas continued.  
“What about it?”  
“Are you not at least a bit concerned?” Legolas wrinkled his forehead, and Thranduil sighed deeply as he shifted his weight where he stood, and he understood that this was happening right now, whether he liked it or not. And he did not.  
“People are talking, what about it? Let them talk. The truth is what matters.” He turned back to the drawer, and began taking his rings off.  
“Then you need to make them believe the truth, because right now, all they will listen to is lies.”  
Thranduil closed the drawer to his rings, his back still turned towards his son.  
“Peasants…” he whispered under his breath.  
“Ada?”  
“Nothing.” Thranduil turned towards his son again with a slight smile on his lips. “Nothing.”  
“This is exactly it!” Legolas suddenly got agitated. He uncrossed his arms and gesticulated wildly. “You underestimate your people. You take too lightly on things. You are not invincible, ada! You might think that this is silly, but rumours are dangerous things! It can do so much damage. It alters the way people look at you, if they respect you or not. You can lose the respect of your people just with rumours. You have to do something about this.”  
After his sudden outburst, Legolas seemed to shrink away a bit again, suddenly realising what he had done. He opened hos mouth to speak again, but shut it.  
Thranduil took his time before he answered his son.  
“Rumours are fleeting. They need nourishment, just as we, or they die. I will not give them anything more to feed on.” He walked over to Legolas and put his hands on his shoulder, looking him honestly in to his eyes. “I will be careful, I promise.”  
Legolas sighed with relief and nodded. “Thank you.”

Legolas left his father’s chamber, and Thranduil went on to fully undress for his rest for the night. He laid down on his bed, but could not relax. His son had been speaking the truth, and it did worry him more than he wanted to show him. It took hours before he finally sank in to his dreams.

_Thranduil tried not to look at the girl across the table, but now and then, his eyes could not help themselves, and they wandered towards her. And always a pair of beautiful green eyes looked back at him. He would instantly look away awkwardly, and he would pretend to be intently listening to his father and the lords around the table, but he could not concentrate, and soon his eyes wandered again, but this time they stayed on the girl._  
_He could see her smirk at him, and she gave him a slight nod away from the table. Thranduil frowned, and shook his head carefully. She raised an eyebrow back at him. Thranduil demonstratively looked away from her, and towards the other elves again, trying to follow the conversation, but he could really not care less about whatever it was they were talking about. But his father had brought him there for a reason, and Thranduil wanted to impress him, wanted to show him that he was not a boy anymore, but a young man, and that he could trust him with his business of the kingdom of Greenwood._  
_But the truth was that he had no idea what they were talking about, and his heart sank._  
_Out of the corner of his eye, he soon could see the girl moving. She got up from the table, and went up to an abandoned harp that had been played earlier. She waited until Thranduil looked at her, and then she reached for a string to strum it._  
_Out of reflex, Thranduil began to stand up to stop her, but halfway off his chair he realised that his father might have noticed him. He looked towards him, but he was still busy in a conversation, and had not noticed a thing._  
_Slowly Thranduil stood up, still with his eyes on his father, and then when he understood that his father would not notice him at all, he walked over to the girl._  
_“They don’t care, can’t you see that?”_  
_Thranduil did not know what to say to that. It was startlingly honest._  
_“Come. If I have to stay here and listen to this one more second, I think I might die of boredom.”_  
_The girl took Thranduil’s hand and led him away to a small patch of grass in the otherwise stone covered yard, away from the voices. The only thing that could be heard there was the babbling of a brook somewhere in the distance._  
_“What’s your name?” Thranduil asked._  
_“My name is Valinë. And I know who you are, Thranduil.”_  
_Slowly, Valinë took Thranduil’s other hand too, and stood up on her toes, still not quite reaching._  
_A sudden intake of breath startled both of them. Valinë stood down again, turning her head towards the sound, as did Thranduil._  
_A little boy was standing not far away from them, peaking around a corner, smiling brightly with mischief._  
_“I’m so going to tell father about this!” he yelled at his sister and began running away._  
_“Irimon! You will do no such thing!” Valinë let go of Thranduil and ran after her brother, leaving Thranduil standing alone in the yard._

Malothel came out of her dream screaming, tears running down her cheeks. Berior rushed over to her and buried her in his arms until she had calmed down. He knew what to do, this was not the first time this had happened. He hugged her tightly, rocking her slightly, and soon she came out of the embrace and laid back down on her pillow, exhausted from the fear and the crying.  
“What was it this time?” he asked her.  
“Spiders” She looked at him with worry. Now and then, Malothel dreamed about Berior dying in different ways, and this night it had been spiders, which scared her more than any other of her dreams, because it felt so much more real, so much more close, it could actually happen.  
“Spiders got nothing on me, you know that.” Berior tried to make his wife feel better, and it worked. She smiled brightly at him.  
“Yes, I guess you are right. My captain.”

Later that day, Berior stood before Thranduil who looked down at him, his head held high, carrying his spring crown for the occasion. Behind Berior was a larger group of elves to witness this special occasion, and among them, of course, was Malothel, who’s bright smile lit up the whole hall. They had only been there a few days, but already Berior was going to become captain of his own guard. It was almost too good to be true, and such an honour. She had heard people whispering behind her as they had been standing waiting for Thranduil to arrive. Some where sorry to ever have doubted their king, and some where thinking it was just some way to cover it all up. She had a hard time not talking back to all these rumours that had been going around, to tell them all that it was all lies, but she had decided to just stay out of it, to let it die down, because she believed it would eventually. It aways did.  
And then Thranduil had arrived, and people had gone silent, not risking their king overhearing them.  
Thranduil made a gesture with his hand, and an elf came from the side up to them, holding out something long, wrapped in silver velvet. Thranduil reached in to this blanket, and drew out a beautiful silver bow, carved with an intricate pattern of leaves. He held out the bow in front of Berior who looked at it with a slightly opened mouth and large eyes.  
The elf with the sheet bowed towards Thranduil and stood himself a bit out on the side, away from the spotlight.  
“Lhingrileng” Thranduil declared to Berior with a loud and clear voice that bounced of the walls. “For our new captain.”  
Thranduil handed the bow to Berior and just as he had taken it, a deafening noise boomed throughout the whole underground city, and it almost felt as if the ground was shaking.  
It was large horns being blown, a warning that they were under attack. Many of the elves gathered there looked up, from where the sound came, and then began rushing out and up in a quick and organised fashion. Some stayed behind, giving way to the soldiers rushing out. They all looked worried. They knew that there was no time to go get any armour, or their own weapons, they would have to go as they were, and they would be handed a random weapon on their way out.  
Malothel ran over to her husband, passing Thranduil on her way, and they both ran up together. Malothel had no clue what to do, but Berior had been told all this the day before, when he was told he would become captain of his own guard, so she followed him.  
When they had gotten to an exit, there were already elves ready, standing in rows, waiting for orders. Berior went up to an elf handing out weapons, and got a shiver with arrows for his new bow, and also a long dagger that he hung at his side. Malothel was handed a pair of small daggers but she hesitated to take them, shaking her head. She had seen these daggers before. She had seen them in her dream.  
“Just take them, Malothel, we have to move.”  
Malothel shook off the terrible feeling she had gotten, and accepted the daggers. There was no time. The horns were still booming, and they had to go out. She joined the rows of elves, and Berior began shouting orders. The doors were opened, and they went marching off.


	4. The attack

Out there in the forest, it somehow seemed darker than underground, although it was just late afternoon, and the sun should be up there somewhere over the trees, still shining.  
The horns kept booming, shaking the trees and the ground, and somewhere in the distance, the sound of a battle could be heard. There were screams, and clashing of metal. Groans and moans. Malothel tried to catch the eye of her husband, but he had her back against her, leading his guard forward. Other guards were now also joining then, making a large army that almost soundlessly marched onwards.  
They had to walk up a small hill to get to where the sound of the battle came from. And down in the valley below the guard of elves that had sounded the alarm were struggling with the large army of goblins that was attacking. They were greatly outnumbered, and many elves lay dead already. A small part of Malothel wanted to look away, but she kept on looking forward, a steady, determined gaze. She was ready.  
The army stopped. Berior took a moment to gather himself, and let his guard do the same, and so seemed all the other captains do too, because then, as if rehearsed, they all gave the order together.  
“Attack!”  
The whole army flew down on swift feet with their weapons ready to meet their foes. The elves already down there looked up, relieved to have someone come to their aid.  
Malothel ran up to her husband that now had turned towards her, searching for her among the crowd which came flying between them. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard, but there was not time for much more. They let go of each other, and headed in to battle.

Although it was impossible to tell, Malothel was sure that the sun had now set. She was sure that they had been down there in the valley for hours, or so it seemed. It felt like an eternity had gone, and she had not been able to see an end to this, not until now. The goblins were not crowding them as much anymore, they got fewer and fewer, and she finally got a chance to search for Berior. She had looked for him every moment she got before, but had not found him. There hadn’t been much time to worry though, since the constant stream of goblins had kept her occupied, but now she could really look for him. She stopped and looked around, but nothing. She had to walk further out, and just chose a random direction. Walking over dead bodies, both goblins and elves, she headed along the valley, intently looking around. Not much further ahead, she saw the king fighting with a pair of goblins. He was stained with blood, just as Malothel. The ground that she walked upon was also coloured red, but she did not look down. Her focus was to find her husband, and he would not be there. He wouldn’t.  
Suddenly Malothel stopped dead in her tracks. Just in front of her, she saw the prince. She drew a sharp breath and felt faint. She looked down at her weapons in terror, the weapons she had seen in her dreams, and she threw them as far away as she could and stooped down to a dead elf laying at her feet, and took up the sword laying by his side. She felt the handle firm in her hand. She had never seen in before. It was just a sword. But when she looked over at the prince again, all the reasoning in the world could not make her feel better.  
In front of the prince was a large spider, hissing and thrusting his bloody stinger to threaten. Legolas stood en garde with his daggers, ready for the spider to attack. And it did. Legolas swiftly avoided the stinger and plunged one of his daggers at the spider, but missed. The spider attacked again, but this time it went on it’s back.  
Legolas looked up from where he had stooped down to avoid the stinger, and saw Malothel pulling her sword out of the spider.  
“Le hannon” he said, trying to catch his breath, and stood up.  
“Have you seen Berior?” Malothel asked the prince. There was no time to waste on niceties.  
“I think…” Legolas started to answer, but did not get any further before he saw Malothel suddenly looking over his shoulder, and she rushed past him, almost knocking him over as she went.  
He could just barely see what it was that had made her run. Further in to the forest, where the trees were thicker and it was even darker, an elf was laying on his side, with his back to Legolas.  
Malothel ran as fast as she could and slid down on her knees to the elf as she reached him. She turned him over so that she could see his face, and the scream that left her tore at her throat. Again and again she screamed until she could taste blood, and there was no scream left in her.  
Berior was laying in front of her, with a big wound in his side. He was so very pale, and there wasn’t much more blood coming from the wound, but the ground was covered with it.  
They were surrounded by dead spiders. Malothel turned her head slightly and looked back at the spider that she just had killed.  
“No, no, no, no, no…” she whimpered.  
She brought him up on to her knees, up in to her arms, and she rocked him slightly, burying her face in his neck.  
“Malothel?”  
An eternity had seemed to pass as she heard the voice of the king, and she looked up from her husband's neck in a daze, surprised, staring in to nothingness for a while before she looked up at Thranduil.  
There were no words. She did not know what to say. And she had the strangest feeling. She felt that she just wanted to lay down and close her eyes and drift away. As if there was no life in her anymore, no energy. She had never felt like this before. Her eyelids had never been so heavy that she could not keep them open. But she fought this feeling with the little energy that she had left. She did not wanted to lose the little time she had left with her husband, she wanted to stay with him for as long as it was possible. But she was just so tired…  
“Malothel?” The voice seemed so far away.  
Her eyelids fluttered, and then closed. She began to slowly fall on her back, Berior in her lap slowing the fall, but Thranduil caught her.  
With one arm he held her up, and with the other he pushed of the body of Berior so that he could pick her up.  
When he turned around he was met by a group of solders that had been watching him. The battle was over, and they were all exhausted. They had come to see about their king, and had found him alive, but seeing him with Malothel in his arms and her dead husband behind him, made many of them glare at him.  
“Get out of my way” Thranduil roared, and pushed himself past them.

 

_A baby was laying on a bed of beautiful golden flowers, in a glade in a forest. She was silently looking about herself, up on the bright tree crowns where the sun was shining through._  
_A bird came down to sit on her blanket covered belly. It tilted it’s head curiously, looking at the baby. The baby looked back at it with big eyes, and then gave a sharp laugh that made the bird fly away. Her arms stretched out, reaching for the long gone bird._  
_A gasp was heard not far away, and then silent feet came rushing over to the bundle on the ground. The elven man stooped down on his knees to the baby and took her up in to his arms. He looked around, but the forest was empty._  
_“Hello?” he shouted, hoping that the mother or father of the baby was near, but no answer came._  
_He looked down at the baby, a strand of his long blond hair came down over his face, and the baby immediately tried to grab it with her short stubby fingers. He brushed away the strand and the baby gave an exasperated sigh. Instead he let the baby have his finger to grab, and she did, yanking it hard, and the elf smiled._  
_“What are you doing here out alone in the forest?” He looked around again, not sure what to do. He could see no one, and he had not met anyone on his way there either. He could not leave the baby here, but he did not want to take it away either, if anyone should return for it. But the thought of someone just leaving a baby like this, angered him._  
_The elf took a walk around the glade, a bit farther out, to see if he could find someone, but when he did not, he made the decision to take the child with him. It was the only right thing he could do._  
_When he arrived back home, his wife greeted him, expecting him to have brought something home from his hunt, something they could eat, but that was not what she found in his arms, and she was so surprised, she did not know what to say._  
_Her husband gently rocked the now sleeping baby, and looked at his wife who shed a tear of joy, for this must surely be fate._  
_She and her husband had long tried to have a baby, but were given none, and they had just about given up, thinking that it simply was not to be. But seeing this baby laying in the arms of her husband, it felt like it was fate. She did not even care to ask where it came from._  
_“What should we call her?” his wife asked in a whisper so that she would not wake the baby up._  
_Her husband thought for a second and then answered her with a smile._  
_“Malothel.”_


	5. The garden

When Malothel woke up from her sleep, she slowly opened her eyes, seeing if they would stay open this time. They barely did.  
Beside her bed she saw the king sitting on a chair, his legs crossed and with a book in his lap. He hugged himself, and seemed deeply in to the book, his eyebrows slightly wrinkled, and he thoughtfully bit his thumb. He did not notice that she was awake, and Malothel preferred it that way. She closed her eyes again, but did not fall asleep this time. Although she wished that she would. She was painfully aware of what had happened, and she had been even as she had been unconscious.  
A tear fell down her cheek, and it surprised her, because she had not been aware that she was crying.  
Somewhere, a door opened, but Malothel did not open her eyes to see who it was that had entered the room, she pretended to still be sleeping.  
Footsteps approached the bed.  
“How is she?”  
Malothel recognised the voice of the prince.  
“She is still with us” his father answered him. The book was shut and put away on the bedside table.  
Silence.  
She could feel their eyes on her, and it made her feel very uneasy, but she could not face them right now. She wanted to be left alone, she wished that she could just fall back to sleep. She wanted to see her husband again.  
“Have you had anything to eat?” Legolas asked, and a faint rustle could be heard from Thranduil as he shook his head. “It’s been two days, Ada! Come with me for breakfast, please, you need something in you.”  
“Yes, son, I will be right with you.” His voice was flat.  
Legolas turned and walked out of the room.  
Malothel felt Thranduil take her hand and she had to fight the impulse to pull it away.  
She could hear a faint sniffle, and then a voice that she did not recognise as the king’s. It was weak and pity full.  
“Please…” he started and then stopped, obviously not knowing how to continue, or even if he could, for his voice seemed to break. But he collected himself. “I can’t loose you again. Please, wake up.” The words were so faint, Malothel could barely make them out. There was a pause, as if he waited for her to wake up, but when she did not, a hand stroked her hair and Thranduil kissed her hand before he let her go. She could hear him standing up and walking over to the other side of the room, where water was being poured and then there was splashing.  
Thranduil cleared his throat and left the room, closing the door silently behind him.  
Malothel opened her eyes and stared up in to the ceiling, relieved that she was alone. Her head was rushing and it was still at the same time, and she needed some time alone to try to get it straightened out.  
But she did not get much time. Soon after Thranduil had left, she could hear someone outside the door, and then it was opened, and Malothel shut her eyes quickly again.  
She could hear the rustling of a dress, and someone humming. It was beautiful.  
The woman that had entered the room walked over to the bedside table and put something down on it. A waft of fresh flowers passed Malothel and she could feel a calm come over her.  
She slowly opened her eyes to see who it was, and she recognised Demeth from her first day in the halls.  
Demeth was standing arranging the flowers in a beautiful vase, still humming, and she had not noticed that Malothel was looking at her. She took a blue flower from the bouquet and held it in front of her, smelling it, gently caressing the large petals. A sadness seemed to pass over her and she stopped humming.  
She then turned her head to look at Malothel, and when she noticed that she was awake, the sadness went away, and she smiled brightly at Malothel. She placed the flower back in to the vase, and sat down on the chair beside the bed.  
“Oh, dear, I am so happy that you are awake! Let me call on the king!” She stood up, but Malothel grabbed her hand.  
“No! No, please…” Her throat was dry and she had a hard time getting the words out.  
Demeth nodded, and Malothel let go of her. She turned to the bedside table again, where she poured some water in to a glass, and she handed it to Malothel after helping her to sit up on the bed.  
“Le hannon” Malothel thanked Demeth after some well needed gulps of water.  
She stared in to the empty glass, lost in thought, almost forgetting that Demeth was sitting beside her.  
“I know how you feel” Demeth took Malothel’s hand and this time Malothel could not stop herself. She pulled the hand away, but regretted it immediately. She was only trying to help.  
Demeth laid her hand back in her lap “I know how you feel” she repeated, and seemed to wait for some kind of answer, but when she did not get any, she continued. “If you ever need anyone to talk to…”  
She stood up, and began walking out of the room.  
“How did you do it?” Malothel suddenly asked, and Demeth turned towards her. “How did you come back?”  
Demeth walked back to the bed and seemed to contemplate something.  
“Do you have strength enough to walk?”  
Malothel nodded.  
“Then come with me.”  
Malothel got up from the bed and put on a robe that had been laying on a chest at the foot end of the bed, and she then followed Demeth as she lead her out of the room, through empty corridors and halls, going steadily up, until they reached a small wooden door that didn’t look much to the world, but when Demeth opened it and they stepped out it was like it was the door to a secret magical world.  
They had stepped out of the halls. Malothel could see the bright blue sky above, but it still felt like some kind of room. There were high hedges surrounding them, hiding the outside world. There were no tree tops to be seen, so Malothel figured that they must be on top of the halls.  
But there were not only green hedges out there. The ground was covered in soft grass and scattered about were beautiful flowers growing, like they had been left to themselves, left to grow where they wanted, untouched.  
Malothel slowly and carefully walked further in to the garden, and Demeth walked with her. They stopped in the middle, and Demeth suddenly stooped down and took off her shoes, and proceeded to walk on the grass with bare feet. She smiled brightly, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  
Malothel did the same. She took her shoes off and placed her feet on the cool, soft, grass.  
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Demeth asked, and Malothel nodded. It was. It was the most beautiful place she had ever seen, but she still could not smile. “I always go here when it gets hard” Demeth continued. “Just to remind myself that there are still beautiful things in life.” She sat down on the grass, looking up at the sky, letting the sun warm her skin, but Malothel went a bit further in to the garden. She walked around, looking about herself. She reached down to the flowers, letting the ones that reached her caress her fingers. But suddenly she felt something hard. She looked down and saw a piece of old grey stone, covered with moss. She pushed away the flowers and a bit of hedge, and revealed a bench. She continued to remove plants from it, so that she could see it completely, and then she sat down on it, still looking down at it curiously. She ran her fingers over the surface, and although it was almost completely covered with moss, she could feel something there, an impression. She began scratching away the moss, and could see that it was some kind of inscription in the stone.  
“Sire!” Malothel suddenly heard Demeth exclaim, and she looked up, seeing Thranduil coming at her with huge steps, ignoring Demeth as she stood bowing down at him. Malothel kept sitting down and she could see Demeth look at her with confusion, waiting for her to bow down at her king, just as she.  
Thranduil reached Malothel, and she looked up at him with an expressionless face. She could see a struggle in the face of the king. He looked angry, but also worried, and he was breathing heavily. He sat down beside her, and she pushed away, sitting as far away from him on the bench as she could, and she could see that it pained him.  
“You were not there when I came back, do you know how worried I was?”  
Malothel wrinkled her forehead in confusion. She did not know who he was talking to, because it sure was not her. She could also see Demeth being confused, and then she left the garden, figuring this was a personal conversation that she should not listen in on. Malothel looked at her in despair as she left, not wanting her to leave her alone with Thranduil, and then back at the king, who looked at her with worried eyes.  
She could again feel tears falling down her cheeks with no warning, and Thranduil was reaching to dry them away when the door to the garden was opened and Legolas stepped out.  
Malothel took the opportunity to get up and leave. She could not stand this. She needed to be alone. She passed the prince without even looking at him, and rushed down to her room, leaving her shoes up in the garden.  
Both father and son looked at the door that was left ajar, and then Legolas turned to his father.  
“What were you doing?” he said, quite agitated, not even trying to hide it. “What is going on, Ada?” His voice had now turned in to despair. “Please, I need to know.”

 

_Thranduil paced up and down his chamber, tapping his fingers at his sides, almost climbing the walls. They should be here by now. They should have been here hours ago, it should not take this long._  
_The door was slowly opened, and in came a small child, barely able to walk, and he waddled over to his father who took him up in to his arms. And right behind came the son’s nanny. Thranduil gave her a nod, and she left._  
_“Nana?”_  
_“Soon, Legolas, soon.”_  
_Legolas rested his head on his fathers shoulder, and Thranduil rocked him gently._  
_Suddenly there was a ruckus outside his door, and then a soldier came bursting in, dripping water and mud everywhere._  
_“My lord! You have to come quickly!”_  
_Thranduil grabbed hold of his son tightly, and ran after the soldier who led him to the entrance hall, and just as they arrived, the doors burst open, and a group of soldiers came rushing in. At the front of the group, a soldier was holding something in his arms that was covered with a coat that Thranduil recognised immediately._  
_Thranduil almost dropped his son, but managed to put him down safely before rushing over to his wife. The coat that was lain over her used to be white, but now it was a mixture of brown and red._  
_“My Lord, we need to get her to a healer.” The soldier spoke as he continued through the entrance hall, there was no time to waste. Thranduil followed until he could hear his son behind him, and then he stopped, realising that there was nothing he could do, besides comfort his son._  
_“Nana? Nana!” The tiny voice sounded worried at first, but then he started screaming. “Nana!!” He began running after her but Thranduil caught him and took him up into his arms. Legolas was struggling to get down, but then suddenly gave up, and snuggled up in to his fathers neck, the corners of his mouth drawn way down._

 

Thranduil continued to scratch where Malothel already had begun scratching away the moss on the bench, and soon it was completely revealed.  
_Valinë._


	6. The Funeral

_Thranduil was sitting by his wife’s bed, holding her hand tightly and leaning his forehead against it. His cheeks were wet with tears. He did not know how long he had been sitting there, it could have been an hour, or it could have been days._   
_“Melethenin?”_   
_It was the faintest whisper._   
_Thranduil suddenly sat straight up in his chair. He let go of his wife’s hand and began stroking her hair and face._   
_“Melenya! You are awake.”_   
_There was no expression in his wife’s face, but when she reached down to touch her belly, her whole face scrunched up, and she began to cry. She tried to stifle her sobs, but they broke through._   
_Her stomach was wrapped up in a bandage and at her side was a faint pink spot. And the bump that had been there for almost eight months, was gone._   
_“What happened to me? What happened to…?” She could not continue. Her voice was so weak, and tears began to stream down her face again._   
_Thranduil stroked her vigorously, not knowing what else to do, he felt so helpless. He was also crying, silently._   
_“They say you were attacked. By spiders. They… They stung you. They stung…” His voice broke and he tried to clear his throat so that he could continue, but it was only a whisper._   
_“It was a girl. A girl, melenya.”_   
_“Malothel…” Valinë whispered._

Thranduil looked up at his son who had tears in his eyes. He could also feel tears welling up, and as he shut his eyes they fell down his cheek.  
He stroked the inscription in the stone bench, stroked it gently as if it was the queen herself.  
“You have never told me…” Legolas looked at his father with confusion, shaking his head slightly. “Why have you never told me?” All his anger was gone, and it had been replaced by pity and sadness.  
Thranduil took a deep breath and wiped away his tears. “I have been selfish. I have not wanted to think about it, ionnin. Can you forgive me?”  
Legolas sat down beside his father, the inscription between them. He looked down upon it and then at his father again. “Of course.”  
“But there is more.”  
“Ada, you don’t have to tell me everything right now. I’ve lived for this long without knowing, I can wait a bit longer.” Legolas had never seen his father like this, not that he could remember, he had never sen him express this much emotion, and he had never seen him cry. It was a sight that frightened him. He made an excuse to leave and got up.  
Thranduil nodded slightly and watched the back of his son as he left him in a hurry.

 

Back in Malothel’s chamber, Malothel was laying on her bed, curled up in foetal position, her head buried in her hands, but she was not crying. She starred up in to nothingness, in to the empty room.

_Berior ran over to Malothel with swift, light, feet, and he had a bright smile on his face. As he reached her he grabbed her from behind, lifting her up from the ground, and swung her around. She gave a scream and gently tried to make him let go of her._   
_“Let me down!” She was laughing._   
_Berior stopped, but did not let go of Malothel. He kept her arms in a tight grip, and rested his head against her neck._   
_“Are you ready?”_   
_“I am ready.”_

Malothel closed her eyes. She had not been ready. She had thought that she was ready, but she was not. And he was not either. Because now he was dead, and she blamed herself. They should have listened to their families, they should have stayed, and not went out on this stupid adventure. Not even seven days had they lasted here. Not even seven days had past, and one of them was dead.  
They had not been ready.

 

A few days later, Demeth came in to Malothel’s chamber, walking swiftly, carrying a dress carefully and laid it out on the bed beside Malothel where she was sitting, hugging her knees. Malothel looked down at the dress, her heart racing. She was not ready for this. She had been sitting on her bed like this for hours, not moving an inch, trying to gather some resemblance of courage, but nothing had changed within her. She could not go. She could not move. She could barely breathe.  
The dress was beautiful. Obviously a gift from…  
“Thranduil asked me to give this to you. For the funeral.” Demeth said.  
Malothel let go of the breath she had been holding and she closed her eyes.  
“I can’t go.” Malothel said with the faintest voice that Demeth clearly did not hear. So she repeated herself. “I can’t go.”  
“You’re not going?” Demeth asked, surprised. “What do you mean you are not going? It’s your husbands funeral.”  
“I’m not ready. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”  
Demeth started to say something several times, but nothing was said. Then she spoke clearly, but with a broken voice.  
“And you think I am? You think I am ready?” Demeth breathed heavily, cut off several times from her slight shaking, and tears started to rise in her eyes.  
Malothel looked up at her. She had completely forgotten that this was Demeth’s husbands funeral too. Her eyes opened wide, and her eyebrows tightened above them.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”  
Demeth held up a hand to stop Malothel. She did not look at her.  
“I have to go get ready. You come or don’t come, I don’t care, but I have to get ready. I have not time for this…” She walked out of the room as swiftly as she had come, and left Malothel alone again.  
Malothel felt so stupid for not realising. She had been so occupied with her own sorrow, that she had completely forgotten about the sorrow of others. She thought back at all the things that Demeth had done for her these past days. She had been so kind to her, even smiling, as if the pain inside her was nothing. But Malothel realised now that it had not been true. The pain inside her had been as great as her own.

 

The sun had set a few hours ago, and the grass under her bare feet was wet, and cool. The air the same, although Malothel could sense a faint smell of smoke.  
She could see the small hill in front of her, and she walked up, joining the few people that had gathered there standing around something that she could not see yet, but knew very well what it was. Her steps were determined, although her heart was wavering, as she got closer to see. A few of the people closest to her turned around as they noticed someone coming up behind them. They made way for her to get closer, and she stopped at the inner circle. The centre of the ring was lit up buy elves holding torches, casting erie shadows on the podium that had all the elves eyes in it.  
The podium was made up from small logs, neatly stacked, and on it, five elves were laying on a bed of freshly picked small white flowers. They were laying on their backs, hands crossed over their chests, and they were dressed in beautiful garments, all with their own touch, and different flowers were lain around them, almost tucking them in.  
A small girl stepped up to one of the dead elves, and laid a big red flower at it’s head, and then she stepped back in to the circle. Malothel looked down at her hands that were empty. She had never been to a funeral before, and did not know that she should have brought flowers. She searched the faces of the dead soldiers that was hard to make out in the dim light of the small fires, but she easily recognised the one of her husband, laying in the middle of the five. A few flowers had been lain around him, but mostly it was the surrounding soldiers flowers that had overflown, and almost taking up his space. It made it look not so empty around him, and Malothel gave a relieved sigh.   
She looked up from the soldiers, and at the other end of the circle she met the eyes of Thranduil. He had no expression on his face. None at all. It was stone cold, and almost frightening in the flickering light. But she could not tear her eyes from him, and he did not look away either, not until it was time to light the podium.  
A soldier carrying a torch walked up to the king, and handed over the fire to him. He took it, and without a word, he put it to the wood under the corpses, and the logs instantly caught fire.  
In just a few seconds it was a mighty blaze, and everyone had to take a few step back so they would not get scorched by the heat.  
Malothel stared at her husband who soon was completely engulfed in the flames, and no longer visible. She closed her eyes and let a single tear fall.   
He was gone.

 

_Thranduil had not wanted to let his son see his mother like this, although he could often hear him outside of the chamber calling for her. There had always been a nurse to take him away though, although it had pained him every time he had heard the sad voice of his son, and not had been able to take him up in his arms and comfort him himself, because he dared not leave his wife’s side._   
_But the days had gone, and then weeks, and there was no sign of his queen getting any better. She was still very weak. From the wounds, or the loss of their child, Thranduil did not know. He only knew that he could not just sit there any longer and do nothing._   
_He had left her as she was sound asleep, and went to get their son. Maybe the sight of their son would give her some spirit to fight with. He had to try. He had nothing to lose._   
_As he reached him, and Legolas saw his father for the first time in weeks, the boy screamed “Ada! Ada!”, smiling brightly, and ran over to Thranduil as fast as he could on his little legs. Thranduil smiled too, and took his son up in his arms, hugging him tight, tight, digging his face in to the long blond hair, and breathing in._   
_“Ionnin.” Thranduil placed his son on his hip. “Please, forgive me. I have missed you. I have missed you so, so much.”_   
_“It’s okay, ada.” Legolas answered his father, and Thranduil almost cried, hearing his son speak a whole sentence, as he had never heard him speak before._   
_“I am here now, and I will never leave you again.”_   
_They headed back to the queen and as they were getting closer to the chamber, they could hear a few elves almost whispering to each other._   
_“I don’t know where he went, he just wasn’t there when I came in.”_   
_“But we need to find him, we need to tell him.”_   
_“He will come back soon, I am sure of it, and he will find out then.”_   
_Thranduil came around the corner, and as soon as the elves saw him, they broke up, standing up straight, not really knowing where to look, almost looking a bit guilty, although they were not._   
_“What will I find out?” Thranduil asked them with a loud voice._   
_One of the elves started to stammer a bit, not knowing what to say._   
_“My king… I… I’m sorry…”_   
_Thranduil had no patience to wait for the elf to finish, and walked over to the chamber door, and opened it. The queen was laying on the bed, just as she had been when he left her. He walked over to her, with Legolas reaching his arms down to his mother, wanting to get down to her._   
_Thranduil put down his son on the floor, and stroked the hair of Valinë to wake her up._   
_But she did not._   
_He took her hand and kissed it, squeezing it gently. She had always been a light sleeper and it had never taken much to wake her up, but this time she did not._   
_Thranduil gently grabbed her shoulder and shook it._   
_Nothing._   
_By then Legolas had managed to get up on the bed, and sat beside his mother, shaking her too._   
_“Nana. Nana, wake up!” He was smiling, excited to see his mother, but the smile on Thranduil’s face had faded, and been replaced by a look of horror, and he had gone completely pale._   
_“Valinë! Valinë! Wake up!” Thranduil sat down beside his wife and continued to shake her._   
_The elf that had spoke to Thranduil before was standing in the door, trying to get his king’s attention, but Thranduil did not notice._   
_“Wake up, melethenin!”_   
_“Nana, wake up!” The prince now also began to realise something was wrong._   
_“My lords!” the elf in the door way suddenly spoke up, so that the king now heard him. “She is dead my lord. She is gone.” His voice was full of remorse. He had not wanted to speak it so clearly, but it had to be done._   
_Thranduil stopped shaking his wife and put her down. Her hair covered her face, and he slowly removed it, stroking her as he did so._   
_Legolas looked at the elf, trying to understand what he meant._   
_“No.” Thranduil said suddenly, and he shook his head. “No. No, you can’t do this to me. You can’t do this to us! You have a son here, Valinë! You can’t leave us!” He stood up, and grabbed Legolas. “You can’t leave your son!” Legolas was dangling in the grip of his father, dangling back and forth from the rage of his father, and he began to cry, frightened. “Ada, put me down” he whispered, but Thranduil did not hear him. “How dare you leave us here without you!”_   
_Another one of the elves from outside the chamber walked up to Thranduil, and took Legolas from him, but Thranduil barely noticed. She tried to calm the crying child, rocking him in his arms._   
_Suddenly Thranduil began to shout, almost roar, and he lashed out, throwing a vase down from the bedside table._   
_The elf holding Legolas gasped in horror at the intense reaction of the king she had just witnessed, and hurried out from the chamber, not wanting the prince to have to watch his father like this. She stood outside, the door closed, and could hear the king shouting again and again, and more crashes from things being thrown to the floor. With the little prince held tight against her, trying to cover his ears, she hurried away from there._


End file.
